


A Joke That Went Too Far

by Im_A_Terrible_Person



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bottom Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Boys in Skirts, Edging, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Top Wilbur Soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_A_Terrible_Person/pseuds/Im_A_Terrible_Person
Summary: How on Earth did they let it go this far?
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 5
Kudos: 171





	A Joke That Went Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> Guess this is what I'm gonna do now.

Schlatt frowned at his monitor, at the stupid little icon that lit up every so often, picking up Wilbur’s snickers. It wasn’t funny, at least not to him. He held a partially opened Amazon package in his hand, the contents of which seemed to mock him.

“Are you kidding me?” He says, holding out the package to the camera that allowed Wilbur to see the fruits of his labor.

“No. C’mon, put it on. Give me a twirl. Off you go.” He knows that Wilbur’s probably making a shooing motion at his monitor, even though he got the dignity of keeping his camera off. Schlatt sighed, reluctantly leaving the room.

How had it gone so wrong? He and Wilbur had been talking, scrolling through various websites for nothing in particular. When Wilbur had sent him a link, he had thought nothing of it. Even when he saw what it was, he hadn’t realized.

“Would you wear it?” He’d asked, clearly not serious. Schlatt had taken it as a challenge.

“Sure.” His tone had been flippant. Wilbur had gone silent, not even the sounds of breathing coming through his headphones.

“You’d wear that?” His voice was more pointed. Schlatt hadn’t realized it at the time. God, he wished he had.

“Of course. It’s just clothes, Wilbur.” He’d said. The sounds of clicking echoed in his ears, the click-clack of the keyboard. He’s confused, not quite connecting the dots yet.

“Alright.” Wilbur breathes.

“What? What did you do?” Schlatt furrowed his brow, not getting it until it had finally hit him.

“Wilbur. Did you just… buy it?” His voice was high.

“Yeah. I want to see you in it. You said you’d wear it.” Ah, he’s trapped. Of course, if he said he didn’t want it, Wilbur would apologize, they’d move on. But… he looked over at the item again, considering.

“Sure, Wilbur,”

God, what had he been thinking? He’s not prepared for this. Schlatt closed the door behind him, staring down at the package. He opened it fully, tearing the plastic that encased it. The outfit fell out, spilling out onto the floor. It was high quality, reminding him of the ridiculous amount of money Wilbur had spent on this, this bit that wasn’t even funny.

There are multiple pieces, so wispy that he’s afraid he’ll rip it if he tries to put it on. He grabs it, holding out what he thinks is probably the main piece. It sinks in, how out of his depth he is. He digs through the package, coming up with a cheap card that has some picture instructions. It’s all white, soft to the touch. He places the card on the sink counter, checking it every few seconds as he tries to figure out how he’s going to do this.

“Schlatt?” Wilbur’s voice makes him jump. He’d forgotten that he’d had the headphones on. He can’t respond.

“Are you having trouble, Schlatt?” Wilbur’s voice deepens, teasing him. He frowns, looking to the door as he can see through it, to the monitor, all the way to Britain. He can picture that stupid, smug smile. It makes his stomach flutter.

“D’you need help? You can come back out and turn your camera off, I can try to help you through it.” He sounds sincere. Schlatt sighs, carefully putting the garments back in the box. He leaves the bathroom, approaches the monitor to turn off the camera. He double-checks that it’s off before huffing.

“How do I do this?” He feels defeated, as though not being able to put on this outfit was something shameful.

“Okay. What do you have?” Shouldn’t Wilbur already know this?

“I’ve got the, uh, the skirt.” God, this was humiliating. “The… the shirt thing, the socks, and the shoes.” All the blood rushing to his face makes him feel light-headed.

“Is that it?” He can practically hear the grin in Wilbur’s voice.

“No, I’ve got the other stuff too.” He will not say it. He draws the line there. Wilbur’s silent for a second, considering pushing Schlatt.

“Good. Attach the belt to the stockings. And the panties.” His voice is soft but intense. Schlatt complies, fiddling with the clasps until it looks connected. He gives affirmation, bravado disappearing as he turns over the words in his head. He wants Wilbur to call him good again.

“You’re going to have to put those on now.” Wilbur’s voice is weird now. Schlatt doesn’t reply, knowing the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor was clear enough. He knows he’s probably beet red, and he checks the icon one last time to make sure the camera was off as he slid his boxers off too. He carefully starts pulling them up, the fabric silky soft against his legs.

He tries not to think about it.

“Alright.” This was weird, wasn’t it? “Done.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You’re wearing them?” There’s a rustling sound.

“Yeah. What’s next?”

“Good. Good, put the skirt on.” Schlatt tries not to think about the movement he hears, instead pulling it up. He looks down at himself, twisting a little to feel it swish against his legs through the stockings. Schlatt loves the feeling. It’s so soft, so pretty. It makes him feel soft and pretty. He clears his throat.

“It’s on, now what?” Wilbur makes a noise, one that sounds suspiciously like a moan. Schlatt doesn’t comment, caught up in the weird atmosphere this has. Wilbur’s breathing is heavy, the sound pulsing in his ears.

“The bra, now.” Schlatt shivers. God, what was he doing?

He peels his shirt off unceremoniously. It falls to the ground in a weirdly impactful moment. Wilbur’s panting now, there was no longer any denying what was going on.

He struggles, arms straining behind him to clasp it. He grunts, it hurt and he just couldn’t get it right. Frustration built in him.

“Schlatt?” Wilbur’s voice is breathy. “Are you having trouble?”

“No. How am I supposed to..?” He trails off, trying and failing once again to clasp it.

“Clasp it before you put it on. Be careful.” Don’t rip it. Got it. Schlatt did so, slowly sliding it down his arms, holding his breath until it rests around his ribcage. He sighed out, feeling the fabric pressing into his skin with each exhale.

“Got it?” Schlatt hums. “Put the shirt on, then the shoes.” He does it, movements hurried. He almost wants to see what it looks like on him. Schlatt scoffs at the heels, puts them on anyway. Schlatt sighs once it’s all on, relishing the feeling of his new clothes. He strokes a hand over the clothes, gentle as if scared it’ll disintegrate. He feels too large, unwieldy in such delicate clothing.

“One sec, I wanna see what this looks like.” Schlatt doesn’t wait for a response, taking the headphones off and carefully walking to the bathroom. Schlatt’s almost scared to look in the mirror. He does anyway, quickly, as if ripping off a bandaid. He takes himself in, mouth slightly agape.

God, he looked good. He wasn’t expecting it to, but it did. It emphasized curves he didn’t know he had. He hadn’t bothered to shave his legs, the hair just seemed to give more shape to his legs. His face is red, as he looks himself over in disbelief. He looks incredible, if he says so himself. He grins, leaving the bathroom with a swagger he hadn’t had before.

It disappears as soon as he sets his eyes on the monitor. He stumbles a little, cursing the heels hampering his movements. He picks the headphones up, hesitantly putting them on.

“-tt? Schlatt, are you there?” Wilbur sounds concerned.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He sits down in his chair. Scoots closer, adjusts his mic, fiddling with things to keep his mind off of the floaty feel permeating his mind.

“Show me.” Oh, right. Schlatt doesn’t answer verbally, just turning the camera on. He hears Wilbur suck in a breath.

“Fuck, Schlatt.” His voice is strained. He grins, feigning confidence he doesn’t really feel.

“Like what you see?” He stands up, gesturing to the rest of him.

“Yes. God, yes, you’re so pretty. So good for me.” Schlatt resists the urge to curl in on himself. “Give me a twirl?” The words are soft, almost inaudible, but Schlatt catches it. He does, feeling exposed as the skirt lifts a little, showing a sliver of thigh.

He stops, sitting back down. Schlatt looks at the screen and is almost shocked to see Wilbur’s face staring back at him. He’s red, his hair is in his eyes. Wilbur looks completely mesmerized, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. He’s sat forward in his chair, a hand brought up to his face as if he’d been using it to cover his mouth.

“Could you tilt your camera down? Just a little?” He moves his hand down, gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles went white.

Schlatt complies, leaning back in his chair and attempting to hide his embarrassment. He spreads his legs slightly.

“Oh, Schlatt.” Wilbur isn’t even trying to hide it, a hand trailing down to the edge of his pants. It feels surreal, as he watches Wilbur push them halfway down his thighs, watches his cock spring up to slap against his shirt. It’s an angry red, weeping, and looks almost like it hurts.

Wilbur wraps a hand around it, lazily stroking it as he looks hungrily at his screen. He lets out a soft moan as he slouches back in his seat.

“Wilbur?” His voice sounds so weak. Schlatt crosses one leg over the other. It doesn’t hide his bulge, tenting out his skirt obviously. Was this really happening? He almost wants to pinch himself, but if this is a dream he doesn’t want to wake up yet.

“I can see that you’re hard, y’know. Go on. Touch yourself.” His hand speeds up, tightening slightly. Schlatt’s hands creep closer to his lap, before abandoning all pretense. He flipped the skirt up, looking away from the screen. The sight of his cock pushing against the panties is strikingly lewd, and he groans as he brushes his hand over it, before taking his cock out. He opens a drawer, groping around for some lube. He finds some, a new one, and drizzles some over his cock.

Wilburs moans are almost shocking, and he almost cums right there as he looks at his screen. He’s hunched forward, hand almost a blur. His other hand is desperately clinging to the arm of his chair. In between moans, he mutters out compliments. Schlatt’s so pretty, he wishes he was there so he could bend him over and fuck him until he couldn’t see straight. Fuck, he’s going to cum.

Schlatt’s hands almost seem to move on their own. His pace is slower than Wilburs, thumbing over the tip of his cock and squeezing on the upstroke. They both devolve into moans and gasps, desperately racing towards a finish. Then, just as Schlatt’s about to fall over the edge-

“Stop.” He whines, hand flying away from his cock as if it had been burnt.

“Do you have a, um, a toy?” He can’t believe Wilbur has the gall to be bashful now.

“Yeah. Do you want me to get it?” Really? Schlatt’s so desperate, his voice shrill with disbelief.

“Don’t be rude. Of course.” Wilbur’s voice is hard, leaving no room for disobedience.

Schlatt tucks himself back in, running his clean hand through his hair as he left his room. Wilburs moans still sounded in his ears, taunting him. He’s almost tempted to just get himself off here, but he wants to obey. Admitting it, even in his head, makes him whimper.

His movements are uncoordinated as he digs through boxes, desperation hastening his movements until he finds it. Schlatt could cry. He tries not to rush back to the room, to Wilbur, but he can’t slow down his steps. He’s wobbly, stumbling in the heels.

“Good boy.” Wilbur’s said, amused, and he’s got a smirk on his face when Schlatt looks up at the monitor. He sits back down. The words bounce around his head. He feels so warm, so soft, so pretty.

“C’mon, Schlatt. I didn’t ask you to get that just for you to hold it.” Schlatt flips his skirt back up, fumbling with the clasp that keeps his panties attached to his garter belt. He pushes them down slightly, face reddening as he avoids looking at the screen. Schlatt can hear Wilbur slow down, composing himself. He pours more lube over his fingers.

Schlatt slouches down in his seat, bringing his hips forward so he could reach his hole. He spread the lube over it, pushing his fingers in almost immediately, too impatient to wait for the muscles to relax. He moans, breathy and high, as he pushes it around, pressing against his walls.

“Another,” Wilbur demanded. Schlatt complied, hissing at the stretch as he spread his fingers. When he feels some give, he pushes in a third. God, he just wanted to come. He feels his face burn at the quiet noises he’s letting out, breathy moans and high whimpers that are so unlike him.

He pulls them out, still not looking at the screen as he slicks up the toy. Wilbur groans at the sight, the slick sounds of his movements so loud that they come over the speakers now. Schlatt feels so empty now. He grabs the base of the toy, careful to avoid the small buttons there as he pushes it up against his stretched hole.

“Schlatt.” It’s a warning, saying ‘Don’t you dare tease me’. Schlatt doesn’t, pushing it in almost too fast, throwing his head back against the chair as he moans, so loud he’s sure everyone in a ten-mile radius could’ve heard it.

“You really are my pretty princess.” He finally looks at the screen again, gaze catching on the shit-eating grin that Wilbur is toting. In any other situation, the pet name would have ticked him off. Now, it just turns him on more.

“I knew you liked it!” Schlatt scowls. “No. Fuck you, Wilbur.” It sounds whiney, not nearly as firm as he would’ve liked.

Wilbur moves closer to the mic, he stares into the camera, knowing what he looks like to Schlatt right now. When he speaks, the words are low, dangerous, stated as a fact.

“My pretty princess.” That was so unfair. Schlatt pulls the toy out, fucking it back in with a wet noise. Wilbur falters, eyes flicking back to the screen. Schlatt does it again, hooking a leg over the arm of his chair to keep himself open. He returns to stroking himself, moaning as loud as he wanted. His neighbors were far away enough for him to get away with it, but he still feels the sweet humiliation.

If someone heard…

“Wilbur!” He shouts, screams, hand moving faster. He watches as Wilbur strains, trying to match his pace. Neither of them can speak, too caught up in the other’s image. Their moans mix together, so loud. Schlatt feels hazy, the floaty feeling stronger than ever as he watches Wilbur. He doesn’t know what he looks like right now, but Wilbur clearly liked it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

“Faster.” The word is harsh. Schlatt complies, his forearms burning with the effort of fucking himself and jacking himself off at the same him. He shifts his hand around, trying desperately to find his prostate. When he does, his eyes slide close, the effort of keeping them open too much as his eyes roll back in his head.

-

“FUCK!” Wilbur shouts. He pants, wiping his hands off on his half-on pants. His chest heaves as he comes back down, still staring at the screen. Fuck, Schlatt looks so good.

“Cum for me.” Schlatt does, with a silent scream. His body jerks as if he’s been tazed. His movement stops, pulling the toy out and flinging it somewhere off screen. Wilbur’s cock twitches at the sight of Schlatt’s puffy, fucked-out hole. Too soon, though.

Schlatt’s panting, eyes opening slowly. He looks sleepy, as if he’d had fucked the life out of him.

“Schlatt?” Fuck, what had they just done?

“What?” He flips the skirt down, not bothering to tuck himself away.

“Is this machine washable?” Really? Was that what he’s concerned about? After all that?

“Schlatt. We need to talk about this.” Well, he wants to.

“What? Going to confess your love for me?” Schlatt’s cocky grin is cuter than anything.

“Yeah. I’m hoping we could be together.” Schlatt sighs out, a dopey little smile on his face.

“I’d like that.”

“Great. Call you back in a few?”

“I was serious Wilbur, is this machine washable?”

“I don’t know, just check the packaging.”

“God, you’re useless.”

“Schlatt.”

“Bye, Wilbur.”


End file.
